
We really miss sports. So much so that during the pandemic we've asked ourselves a question: What was *the* moment or reason that we fell in love with sports in the first place?
This story below is from USA TODAY Sports' Scott Gleeson.
But we also want to hear (and share) your stories as well. Don't miss a memory by signing up for our daily newsletter, where we'll be spotlighting our stories – and yours.
Email us at usatodaysports@lightfiretech.com to share the moment or reason that you first felt *that* connection with sports. Send us pictures if you can. We want to publish your stories on USA TODAY Sports and share it with our community.
***
I still remember hearing the sound of banging pots and pans from my neighbors outside. The Chicago Bulls had just won their fourth NBA championship, capping off a historic 72-win season. Everyone in the Chicagoland neighborhood was celebrating.
I don’t recall actually watching those games at age 6. But I remember realizing through that experience what some guy named Michael Jordan meant to my father, Tom. MJ was an athlete and icon whose willpower and “competition problem” felt synonymous with the way my dad lived his life: proving others, anyone who doubted him, wrong.
Once I grew old enough to go to basketball camps, my dad planned the family finances around me attending. At one camp when I was in 7th grade, I found myself in the same high school gym that my father played in back in the late 1960s. Having told me growing up that he was just an “average” player, I was astonished to see a photo in the high school’s trophy case of him being carried off the court.
My cousin and I pried the information out of my grandmother and it was revealed that he won a lot of games for his high school team at the free-throw line. I found out later my dad had made 108 free throws in a row back in his "prime."
The next day at the camp, I created “Free-Throw Tom” sweatbands out of old Nike socks for the camp’s free-throw contest. I shot 47-for-50 after rubbing the sweatband as part of my pre-shot routine. Ever since, I wore the superstitious sock throughout high school to keep the family free-throw legacy going.
When my father was diagnosed with Stage 4 cancer in 2010, and I was still finishing my senior year in college 12 hours away, I wanted to do something to let him know I was still with him in spirit. I shaved my head to show him chemotherapy wouldn’t be his battle alone. And I re-created two “Free-Throw Tom” sweatbands — one for him and one for me — to capture how we’re forever linked through sport. During that 18-month cancer fight, we both wore our sweatbands every day.
When we buried my father in 2012, he was wearing his sweatband on his right leg in the casket. Every day, I wear my raggedy sweatband on my right leg to commemorate the fact that my best friend is still with me, helping me manage life’s struggles through the sport we both loved together.
GOOD SPORTS: All the tug-at-your-heartstrings moments you need to see. All in your inbox. Sign up!
On the eighth episode of “The Last Dance,” I felt an overwhelming sense of déjà vu and serendipity when Jordan was shown gripping a basketball and sobbing following the Bulls’ fourth NBA title. He had won it on Father’s Day and it was his first ring without his dad by his side. Needless to say, I related to those emotions that were pouring out of Jordan — missing his best friend. That emptiness doesn’t go away. But the common thread of basketball helps fill some of the void.
We all have our story of how we fell in love with sports. One memory or moment. Mine was a confluence of moments related to basketball. When I coach grade-school hoops nowadays, I leave an empty chair for my assistant coaching father up in heaven. When I write about college basketball bracket-busters and underdogs, the teams that like to prove the world wrong just like my dad did, I think of the time in his hospital room six days before he passed. We were watching March Madness together — just the two of us — and he was already in heaven. He had his son and he had his sport.
There was no need to escape anything anymore. Those moments that sports give us can’t be put into words. When they come back for good, I know I’ll be banging my own pots and pans this time.
Posted!
A link has been posted to your Facebook feed.































































































Interested in this topic? You may also want to view these photo galleries:
1 of 112
2 of 112
3 of 112
4 of 112
5 of 112
6 of 112
7 of 112
8 of 112
9 of 112
10 of 112
11 of 112
12 of 112
13 of 112
14 of 112
15 of 112
16 of 112
17 of 112
18 of 112
19 of 112
20 of 112
21 of 112
22 of 112
23 of 112
24 of 112
25 of 112
26 of 112
27 of 112
28 of 112
29 of 112
30 of 112
31 of 112
32 of 112
33 of 112
34 of 112
35 of 112
36 of 112
37 of 112
38 of 112
39 of 112
40 of 112
41 of 112
42 of 112
43 of 112
44 of 112
45 of 112
46 of 112
47 of 112
48 of 112
49 of 112
50 of 112
51 of 112
52 of 112
53 of 112
54 of 112
55 of 112
56 of 112
57 of 112
58 of 112
59 of 112
60 of 112
61 of 112
62 of 112
63 of 112
64 of 112
65 of 112
66 of 112
67 of 112
68 of 112
69 of 112
70 of 112
71 of 112
72 of 112
73 of 112
74 of 112
75 of 112
76 of 112
77 of 112
78 of 112
79 of 112
80 of 112
81 of 112
82 of 112
83 of 112
84 of 112
85 of 112
86 of 112
87 of 112
88 of 112
89 of 112
90 of 112
91 of 112
92 of 112
93 of 112
94 of 112
95 of 112
96 of 112
97 of 112
98 of 112
99 of 112
100 of 112
101 of 112
102 of 112
103 of 112
104 of 112
105 of 112
106 of 112
107 of 112
108 of 112
109 of 112
110 of 112
111 of 112
112 of 112